A Melody, of Sorts
by DamnI'mRandom
Summary: Sherlock and John discuss Sherlock's song list. Established Johnlock.


_Disclaimer:__ I own nothing. All rights belong to the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle._

…

John came tip-toeing into the kitchen behind Sherlock, where the latter was bent over his microscope, peering intently. He looped his arms confidently around Sherlock's long, delicious (_mm_) neck and placed his chin on his dark head. He sighed contently and felt Sherlock shift a bit beneath his chin.

'I heard you come in, you know.'

'Of course you did.'

'Mm.'

'You know what I love to do?'

'Hmm?'

'I love watching you like this. I love it when you're so caught up in your work that everything else just ceases to exist for you. It's beautiful. _You're_ beautiful.' He kissed the messy curls underneath him.

Sherlock smiled in a vague fashion and hummed appreciatively. He loved the way John made him feel – like he was wanted, special. He hadn't ever been made to feel that way until John.

'There's been something I've been meaning to ask you…'

'What now?' Sherlock wasn't exasperated, not really, not when John was so close to him and making him feel so happy.

'What music d'you listen to?' John asked. It was one of the topics he was most curious about.

Sherlock looked up from his microscope. 'What?'

'What. Kind. Of. Music. Do. You. Listen. To?'

'What d'you mean?'

'I mean, you play the violin so beautifully, you _obviously_ have an affinity for music. So do you… I dunno, listen to, like, violin concertos or something?'

'I… I don't know what _kind_, exactly.'

'You must have _some_ sort of song list or playlist that you like to listen to. Everyone does.'

'Yes, obviously.'

'Could I see it?'

Sherlock was disconcerted. Why would John want to know what kind of _music_ he listened to? But then again, John did ask strange questions, and it wouldn't be fair to him to say that Sherlock didn't ask his fair share of weird questions, either.

John was asking his permission, which meant it was a sensitive subject for him to broach – why on earth? But then he considered the fact that each person's music was extremely personal for them, and showing his music to John would be the ultimate act of affirming his trust in his boyfriend.

He got up slowly, turned around and kissed John softly before heading to their (formerly his) bedroom to retrieve his iPod.

By the time he came back, John was examining the specimen on the slide curiously.

'See anything you like?' he asked teasingly, jolting John.

'I do now,' John shot back, raking his eyes quickly and obviously over suit-clad Sherlock's body.

He tentatively took the iPod from Sherlock before turning it on, and Sherlock watched him with unusual trepidation. He never really cared about what other people thought of him and his violin-playing, but this was John, _his_ John, and the thought made something churn in his stomach.

'I expected the violin and piano concertos, but Coldplay? Imagine Dragons, The Beatles, Queen, Simon and Garfunkel, Dire Straits, David Bowie… wow, impressive song list, Sherlock,' He looked up at his boyfriend and smiled warmly. Sherlock felt some of the butterflies in his stomach cease to move. John's eyes widened when he scrolled further down the list.

'Blurred Lines?' he asked quizzically.

'It's a good song,' Sherlock started defensively.

'And, wait, _Gangnam Style?'_ John started to chuckle a little.

'So what?' He was starting to think that showing John his song list had been a mistake. If all John was going to do was make fun of his choice of songs…

'No, it's just… I never pegged you for a Gangnam Style type of person.'

'It's not weird?'

'No! No, of course not. Everyone has their own tastes, Sherlock, and I'm certainly not criticising yours. Hey, if it's any consolation, I like Robin Thicke, too. _I know you want it, I know you want it,'_ he sang off-key. Sherlock smiled and scooped John up in his arms.

'Oh,' he said and kissed John sweetly. John laughed and scrambled out of Sherlock's arms, tugging him towards the sofa and plonking down on it, setting Sherlock upon his lap.

'Thank you for sharing this with me. I feel like I know you so much better now.'

'You're… welcome?'

John grinned at Sherlock's lost expression. The words seemed to flow naturally out of him at this moment. 'I love you,' he said quite seriously.

Sherlock's breath caught at the words.

'I love you, too,' he breathed, breath hot on John's neck. John felt himself shiver at the contact.

'Mm, bedroom?'

'Oh _fuck_, yes.'

…

_Thoughts?_


End file.
